


Mating Games Extended Editions

by littlelostcat



Series: Mating Games 2013 [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-28
Updated: 2013-04-28
Packaged: 2017-12-09 20:33:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/777712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlelostcat/pseuds/littlelostcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First response to the Mating Games.</p><p>Chris goes to a dark alley, Peter finds him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mating Games Extended Editions

The last time he’d been in this alley there’d been a car, a werewolf, and gun fire. The last time he’d been here there’d been a fight and his loyalty had been tested. Again. The last time he’d fallen back and let the monster live because of a code that no one else abided by.

This time there was just him.

Chris kicked an empty soda can and watched it bounce against the bin to the wall, then splash in a puddle. The light from a nearby building filtered the alley in an ugly haze. He could hear cars driving on the street around the corner and the wheels splashing in puddles. He didn’t know what he expected; he _knew_ he shouldn’t be here, not with the alpha pack roaming the streets. He knew he should be at home going over plans but he hadn’t been able to sleep and he was suffocated inside those walls. Allison wasn’t talking to him, his father’s betrayal still burned, and everything felt _off_. 

“I thought Little Red Riding Hood got lost in the woods, not abandoned alleys.”

“I thought wolves were big and bad,” Chris retorted and turned as Peter stepped out from the shadows. While Chris knew he stood out like a sore thumb, somehow Peter blended into the darkened corner. He looked dangerous and smug. He belonged here or in the crowded street down the road. He _fit_.

“Is that any way to speak to the only werewolf in Beacon Hills who isn’t trying to rip you apart?”

Chris took a step forward before he could stop himself. “McCall’s been hanging around my house. He hasn’t tried to kill me.”

“Of course, the beta so desperate to be a packless alpha. Do you want me to call him?” Peter raised an eyebrow and mimed a howl, then grinned when Chris rolled his eyes. 

“Should I be concerned that you’re following me, Hale?”

“No,” Peter took step closer and ran his fingers along the line of buttons on Chris’s shirt, and looked up. “You should, however, be concerned that you didn’t hear me walk up.”

“Maybe I did.” He grabbed Peter’s wrist and stilled the movement. 

“Ah,” Peter tapped a finger to Chris’s chest, above his heart, “Lie.”

“What do you want, Peter?” Chris took a step back and felt his back pressed against the dampened brick wall. When had they moved backwards? He tried to step forward but Peter stopped him; a single hand against his chest and a smirk, a single leg between his and a well-placed knee.

“What does any man really want, Chris?” He pulled Chris forward by his belt loops, quickly kissed his lips, then turned and slammed him against the wall. Chris reached out, then cursed when the brick cut into his skin. He stilled when Peter slid his hand down his stomach and whispered, “A fucking good release.”

“So it’s going to be like that?” he ground out and immediately leaned into the heat when Peter stepped closer behind him and braced his hands on either side of Chris’s body. He followed the movement when Peter rolled his hips against him. 

“It’s going to be however I want it,” Peter whispered against his ear. Peter moved one hand to the button on Chris’s jeans and slid it open, dragged his fingers over the skin above Chris’s boxers, scratched the hair there. “So spread your legs, Argent, and shut your mouth.”

When Chris opened his mouth Peter pushed him up against the wall, moved his hand from the top of Chris’s jeans down to the growing bulge and squeezed. “And don’t ruin it by talking.”

Chris pushed back, dropped his hand from the wall to wrap around Peter’s and ground up. 

He kept silent. 

Peter grinned into his neck and kicked Chris’s farther legs apart, then he slid open the V of Chris’s jeans and quickly pushed his jeans and boxers down in one movement. He took a moment and ran a hand over Chris’s thighs, ran his fingers to cup his thickening cock and balls. Peter stroked and teased, not enough to give Chris any friction but enough to cause a shiver to dance along his spine.

“Now, let’s see what a hunter’s mouth can do,” Peter raised his palm to Chris’s mouth and pressed his cheek against Chris’s face. Wordlessly, Chris licked a long strip along Peter’s palm. Peter watched each swipe of his tongue, mimicked the movement along Chris’s throat. Once, twice, then again. He bit lightly when Chris swallowed two fingers and ran his teeth along the tips. Peter tongued the bruised area on Chris’s neck when Chris slicked his tongue between the two fingers. He licked down Chris’s throat until he reached the pulse point beating rapidly and nipped softly, then ran his tongue across the point. 

Nip, tongue. Bite, kiss. Roll of hips, hand pulling Chris close. 

He whispered how good Chris was then lowered his hand to Chris’s cock and tightened his fist as he pulled up, his knuckles brushing against Chris’s balls. When Chris groaned, he slowly started moving his hand and breathing filthy promises against Chris’s neck. 

“Are you going fall apart for me?” he whispered. His other hand moved under Chris’s shirt, elongated nails trailing up Chris’s stomach and chest. “I’ll make it so good. Make you come apart for me. On me. Just you and me, Argent, fucking against this wall. Do you want that?”

He heard Chris gasp when his nails drew blood; felt Chris’s hand tighten where it had gripped Peter’s hand, felt him try to fuck into Peter’s hand. Chris push back, pushed until they were flush back to front, then pushed forward into Peter's slicked hand. His movements begged for release but he stayed silent, small breathes hitching with each thrust. 

“Not yet,” Peter taunted and slowed his hand, loosened his grip. When Chris dropped his head to the wall, exposed his neck, and tightened his fist over Peter’s, Peter sped up. He traced his teeth along the exposed skin. He twisted their fingers so that they jerked Chris at a wicked pace. 

Peter’s grip tightened and twisted on the next pull up. He ground his jean-clad cock against Chris’s bare ass, pushed until their fingers brushed the wall. Chris didn’t whimper but the sound he made was filled with lust, need, and desperation. “Not yet.”

Chris scratched a hand against the brick and bucked into the wet heat of Peter’s hand, with his other he dug his nails into Peter’s hand then fell against him as Peter sped up, as he began to jerk Chris’s cock in quick twists. He fought to hold the orgasm back; tears wet his eyes as Peter’s grip tightened, as he raked his nails along Chris’s chest, as he wetly mouthed at the line of Chris’s jaw, as he whispered filthy images into his ear. 

"Now," Peter growled against his skin, thrust his hips against his ass. 

Chris groaned, jerked as he came into Peter’s hand and against the wall. He gasped, trying to catch his breath, as Peter stroked him through the aftershock. As Peter stroked too long, too tight. 

“See? What every man needs.”

Spent, Chris laughed weakly and moved to the side before turning and leaning against the wall. He pulled his jeans back up, tucked his spent cock back in, and left the jeans open. He pulled Peter close, hooking his fingers into Peter’s pockets. When he grabbed Peter’s neck he kissed him greedily, he bit Peter’s lip and licked wetly into his mouth. He swallowed Peter’s chuckle, then his groan when he slid the zipper of Peter’s jeans down. 

Peter braced a hand against the wall beside them and rocked against him, his cock already achingly hard and hot between them. Then Chris slid down the wall to his knees with his eyes locked on Peter’s, kept them locked when he pulled Peter’s jeans down and nudged him to lean against the wall, “However you want it.”

He felt Peter’s hand lightly rest on his head. He looked down at the hard cock against Peter’s belly, the pearl of precum at the tip, and swallowed. He shouldn’t crave it, shouldn’t need the feel of Peter in his mouth. 

But he did. He wanted Peter to fuck into him, to move without abandon. He wanted to feel every inch. He wanted Peter to use him and make him hurt. Make him feel it. 

“And how do I want it,” Peter whispered, his voice low and wrecked. Chris looked up, he dug his palms into Peter’s thighs and followed the vein along the underside of Peter’s cock with his tongue. He eyes never left Peter’s face, even when Peter’s head fell against the wall and his hand cupped the back of Chris’s head. When Chris reached the top, he stopped and sat back on his heels. 

“I don’t know,” he quirked his mouth in a debauched grin. “I’d want to fuck the nearest thing to me.”

Peter grinned and pushed Chris’s head back to his cock, nudged his mouth open and hummed as he slid into the wet heat. “You would,” he said and thrust once, slowly.

Chris pulled back, he kept one hand on Peter’s leg and gripped his cock with the other. He circled the head, slid his tongue along the slit. Above him Peter cursed and Chris huffed against the tip, then wrapped his lips around it. He sucked, rolled, and ran his tongue along the tip and slowly jerked his other hand up. 

He sucked his way down and followed his hand with his mouth. His tongue cupped the underside of Peter’s cock and wetly traced a line. He swallowed around Peter’s cock, used his tongue to push it to the top of his mouth while hot saliva pooled around it. When Peter’s hand pulled on his hair, pushing him further down, he ignored the instinct to gag. He sank down until his nose brushed against the wiry hairs, until Peter’s cock nudged the back of his throat. 

Then he pulled back, gasped and licked at the line of spit and precum that trailed after him. Before Peter could pull him back, Chris licked from root to tip, shifted and repeated, then swallowed him down. He wanted the pull, wanted the taste of Peter against his tongue. He felt tears prick when he pulled Peter’s hips up, signaling him. 

Peter didn’t need the encouragement. He dropped his other hand to cup the other side of Chris’s had, rubbed once, then jerked his hips forward. He fucked up and hard into Chris’s wet, waiting mouth and groaned as Chris took it, took him. He jerked again and again, fast and unrelenting. Each thrust he gripped Chris tighter, help him in place. Each thrust Chris tightened his hold and swallowed when he could. When he felt the Peter’s belly tense and his balls tighten, he slowed. Chris tightened his hold at the base and pulled off, his eyes wet and his mouth slippery and bruised. 

“Don’t stop,” his voice cracked and immediately he pulled himself down Peter’s cock again. Peter didn’t stop. His hips jerked fast and his hands held Chris still until he was coming down Chris’s throat, until his groaned release echoed in the alley. 

Chris pulled off, wiped his mouth and leaned back. He sat while Peter tucked himself back into his jeans and slid down the wall, legs spread wide. Beside him Chris moved so that the heat from the werewolf bled onto him. He could only imagine how they looked: fucked out, worn, and sated. 

“Why did you come here?” Chris asked, finally.

“Why did you?” Peter rested his elbows on his knees and shook his head. He spoke without giving Chris the chance to answer. “Because if any one is going to kill you, it should be me.”

Chris laughed and nodded. “Right.” 

He looked down at where his hands still trembled and where sweat still glistened on Peter’s wrists. He felt humilation war with exhilaration, and already wanted to lap at the salty sweat at Peter’s neck. “I don’t have to tell you this was a one-time thing.”

Peter smirked and rolled his head to the side, “Christopher, you and I always end up here.”

He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the brick, he sat enjoying the heat from Peter and the chill from the brick. He didn’t speak for a minute, then pulled his knees up in a mirror of Peter’s pose. “Maybe not this alley though.”

Peter stood, offered a hand and pulled Chris up. “Maybe this alley. I ike the ambience. Or maybe your bed. Or _a_ bed. I could do some very wicked things to a man with a four post bed.”

Chris watched Peter slide back into the shadows beside them, heard the soft click of heels against cement, and thought about his bed at home. 

He stood and fastened his jeans, swallowed before walking back to the street. He waited a moment at the alley’s mouth before walking to the jeep filled with wolsfbane arrows and flashbombs.


End file.
